


Tongue-Tied and Overloaded

by CitrusVanille



Category: McFly
Genre: Backstage, Begging, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-23
Updated: 2008-11-23
Packaged: 2018-06-05 17:47:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6714847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CitrusVanille/pseuds/CitrusVanille
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Tom barely makes it off stage - just far enough that he's beyond the sight-line of the audience - before he's shoving Danny hard against a wall...</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tongue-Tied and Overloaded

**Author's Note:**

> I have a thing for walls. I can't help it. Thanks to [](http://figletofvenice.livejournal.com/profile)[figletofvenice](http://figletofvenice.livejournal.com/)</lj>, for being a wonderful beta and fixing my horrible dialogue.

Tom barely makes it off stage – just far enough that he’s beyond the sight-line of the audience – before he’s shoving Danny hard against a wall, biting into his mouth, hands fisting in his plaid shirt. Danny lets him, lips parting under the assault, grunt of surprise turning into a moan halfway through. And Tom knows Danny’s stronger than he is, knows if Danny didn’t want him he could just push him off. But Danny isn’t pushing him off – never does – and that’s enough to make Tom shudder against him.

They both need this – this contact, this release – in the aftermath of the great shows and the shows from hell. The mentality of the stage is hard to shake. Danny can’t let it go without help, needs someone else to take over, force him to release and come down. Tom needs to work through it away from the crowds, burn off the energy in a setting he can control. Danny used to go out, find someone – anyone – willing. Now he finds Tom – or Tom finds him – and that works, too. They’re so close on stage, guitars and voices playing tag-team, overlapping, twisting and turning around each other in some sort of elaborate dance. It’s really not all that surprising that their connection onstage spilled off.

“Not in public,” a voice cuts in – half harsh, half tense – and hands are pulling Tom back.

Tom whirls, ready to bite the head off of whomever’s touching him. He’s hard as fuck and high on adrenaline, and the only person he wants touching him is Danny.

It’s Harry. He lets Tom go the moment Tom steps towards him. “I know, I know,” he says, hands up, placating in the way he only ever is after shows. “Just, take it somewhere else, all right? Unless you want to announce this to the world, go do – whatever – somewhere else.”

“Where would you like us to –” Tom starts, voice rough, and he knows on some level that Harry’s right, but.

“Corridor over there’s free,” Dougie comments from behind Harry, gesturing around the corner. “Harry and I’ll make sure no one goes looking for you.” He smirks, and tugs Harry away by the back of his shirt.

“Fuckers,” Danny says, but it’s got no venom behind it, and he only laughs – all loose-rough sound and white teeth – when Tom growls and grabs him again, hauling him into the empty corridor and pinning him to the wall. “Great show,” Danny says, and he’s still half-laughing, but a little breathless, a little hoarse.

“Fuck, yes,” Tom says, and presses into him – mouth first – shifts closer when Danny’s hands come up to cover his hips. Tom can feel the sweat trickling down his back, making his hair stick to his neck, making his clothes cling to every inch of skin they touch. It should be uncomfortable, but it just makes the blood in his veins hotter, makes the adrenaline sparking under his skin sharper.

Danny makes a muffled noise against Tom’s lips. His fingers are digging in hard enough that he’s probably going to leave bruises.

Tom pushes harder – whole body pressing Danny back into the wall – and grinds against him. He can feel Danny’s cock hard against him, and _fuck_ , he wants – just – _wants_. 

Danny makes another sound, and one of his hands leaves Tom’s hip to fumble with Tom’s belt.

Tom lets him get the belt open, lets him pop the button and pull the zip on his trousers, but bats his fingers away when they try to get inside. “No,” he says, pulling away when Danny hisses against his mouth in frustration. “My turn.” And he drops abruptly to his knees, ignoring the grate of concrete in favor of getting Danny’s belt loose enough that he can just tug Danny’s trousers down without even unbuttoning them.

“Oh, fuck,” Danny breathes, and Tom glances up in time to see his head _thunk_ back against the wall.

Tom can’t help the grin he feels quirking his lips, but it doesn’t matter, because no one is looking. He reaches out to trace the line of Danny’s cock through his boxers, and his grin widens when he hears Danny curse again, louder this time. “Volume, Danny,” he warns, and he knows it’s a little mean, but he also knows Danny gets off on this as much as he does. The crowd, the music, the lights – it’s all such an intense rush, such a heady power trip.

Danny swallows what’s probably another curse when Tom presses his mouth to the cotton of his boxers, lips parted just enough that Danny can feel the wet heat of his breath – just enough that Tom’s tongue can slip out and trace the line his finger had followed.

“Tom,” Danny hisses, voice low now, tight, “Tom, come on.”

Tom just exhales again, hot and close, and waits for it.

Danny shifts, hips lifting slightly, and groans when Tom pulls back, staying just out of contact. “Tom, _please_ ,” Danny finally grits out. “Just – fucking hell – _please_.”

Tom grins a bit wider, knows Danny doesn’t really mean it yet – not enough anyway – but he reaches up to hook his fingers in the waistband of Danny’s boxers and pull them down carefully. He can make Danny mean it, make him say anything, promise anything. He doesn’t need to go quite that far tonight – the show was fucking amazing – but, still. He ignores Danny’s half-sigh – relief mixed with continued frustration – and presses wet, open-mouthed kisses across Danny’s stomach, nips at his hipbones, drags lips and tongue down the sensitive skin on the insides of his thighs.

Danny lets out a sound that’s not quite high-pitched enough to be a whine, but is definitely close. His hips jerk forward and Tom catches him, pushes him back flush against the wall.

“Stay where I put you,” Tom tells him, can hear the rough quality of his own voice, low, almost a growl. He lets his fingers drift across Danny’s stomach, feeling the muscles jump as Danny’s breath hitches. His hands trail lower, palms sliding down Danny’s legs, over the curves of his knees, curling around his calves, nails scratching lightly, making Danny shiver.

“Tom, Tom, come _on_ ,” Danny’s voice has gone soft and breathy.

Tom hums and leans in, but only to press a kiss just below Danny’s navel. He lets his tongue dart out, trace patterns, taste salty-sweet sweat. He swipes a line down Danny’s stomach, licks at the crease of Danny’s thigh. He feels Danny twitch against him, breathing hard, and he scrapes his teeth across sensitive skin, fingertips gliding behind Danny’s knees.

Danny gives another not-quite-whine, and “Fuck,” he gasps, hips jerking again. Tom slams him back – hard enough to hurt this time – but Danny just makes that noise again, almost vibrating under Tom’s hands.

“I said don’t move,” Tom growls, bites into Danny’s hip, and Danny groans.

“Fuck, Tom, just _do it_ already –”

And Tom won’t do it, not yet. He’s so fucking hard, from the show, from this – from listening to Danny, feeling him, tasting him – and he wants to get off so fucking badly, wants to get Danny off, knows what Danny wants and wants to give it to him, but not yet. Soon, soon, but not yet. He isn’t ready. He just breathes out, hot air washing over Danny’s cock, and Danny whimpers.

“Tom, please, I want – I need you to –”

Tom licks a stripe along Danny’s cock, feels him shudder, loves the whine now escaping Danny’s throat broken only by soft whimpers when Tom retreats again, returns to just breathing.

Danny’s trembling, hips moving only fractionally but at a frantic pace, trying to get closer of their own accord while Danny fights to stay still. “Tom,” Danny’s voice is uneven, almost broken, desperate. “ _Fuck_. Tom, Tom, I want you so much. So fucking amazing, you just – _fuck_ – oh god, _please_ , _anything_ –”

And that, that’s what Tom’s been wanting, waiting for, needing.

“Fuck, Tom, will you just – god, I – _please_ –”

Tom swallows his smirk and Danny’s cock in one go, Danny’s curses and pleas rough and sweet in his ears. Whoever said that the guy on his knees has given up control doesn’t have the slightest clue what he’s talking about, Tom thinks. Because Danny may be bigger and stronger than Tom, but Tom can make him beg. If that’s not control, Tom doesn’t know what is.

Tom uses one hand to grip Danny’s hip, holding him still, fingers digging in to give Danny bruises to match Tom’s. His other hand slides inside his own boxers, curling around his own cock – finally, finally, so good, _so good_ – as he hums around Danny’s.

Danny’s words dissolve into moans, his breathing ragged, and he fists a hand in Tom’s hair, not pushing, just hanging on like it’s the only thing keeping him on his feet.

Tom pulls back slightly, teeth scraping just a little – just enough to make Danny start up again “Fuck, Tom, your fucking _mouth_ , I – Tom, I want to – oh god” – and swirls his tongue around the head, drags the tip along the underside as he goes down again.

Danny trails off into moans and panting again, and this time Tom pulls off all the way. Danny whimpers, fingers clutching convulsively at Tom’s hair.

“You can do better than that,” Tom’s voice is still a low growl, harsh in his throat.

Another whine, but, “I – I need to come. I’ll – oh god, _fuck_ – just make me come, and I’ll – anything. Anything _anything_ , _please_ ,” Danny’s voice is choked, raw, and it breaks when Tom slides his mouth over Danny’s cock again, but then Danny gasps in a breath, two, and, “Please, I need to – god. Yeah, like that – just let me –”

Tom finds a rhythm between his mouth on Danny’s cock and his hand on his own. He flicks his tongue, tightens his fingers, moans, lets the vibrations push them both closer to the edge. He knows it won’t be long.

Tom can feel the hot coil low in his stomach, can feel his blood pounding, can’t hang on much longer – doesn’t want to – but he wants – _needs_ – Danny to come first. Danny’s words have slurred into incomprehensible babble and he’s shaking, vibrating under Tom’s touch. Tom looks up, the angle awkward through his lashes, and sees Danny looking down at him, gasping out every syllable, eyes hazy, and it’s so fucking hot. Tom holds Danny’s gaze, hums, digs his fingers harder into Danny’s hip – short nails biting into skin. Danny’s hand in Tom’s hair clenches as his head drops back and he comes down Tom’s throat. Tom swallows – always does, hates it and loves it at the same time, wants to taste it after, wants Danny to taste it when he kisses him. He speeds up his hand, harder, faster, until he’s following Danny over the edge, pulling off and leaning his forehead against Danny’s thigh while he comes down. He can feel the tremors in Danny’s muscles against his skin.

It’s several moments before either of them can move, and then Danny’s shifting his grip on Tom’s head, cupping the back of his neck and dragging him up for a kiss, tongue flicking into his mouth, eyes widening just a bit at the taste – the way they always do – just before sliding closed. Tom sighs into it, still shuddering just a bit, leaning his weight against Danny, who’s still leaning heavily on the wall.

“We should –” Danny murmurs when they finally part, and his voice is hoarse but content. He looks relaxed and more than a little fucked-out.

“Yeah, we should,” Tom agrees, and he knows he sounds more wrecked than Danny, knows he’s damn lucky they have the next day off.

Danny sighs, and they separate, putting themselves back together, adjusting clothes, hair.

“We good?” Tom asks, and he really wants to get down to the dressing room and change, boxers already cold and uncomfortable.

“Good,” Danny affirms, and follows him out of the corridor, back into the crowd of people still milling around backstage.

And if they happen to bump into each other a little more than necessary as they make their way through the swarming techs, no one says anything.


End file.
